I play tin drums for peace
and prance on tables too
it's clear as ***** pics
a night I'm drooling steak
but fed bread and cabbage
stew, thankful for little
chance to break my fat
a crease at ****** time.

I don't write poetry
I make words a part of me
I spread my thoughts
To everybody
I'll paint a picture
Of what I see
And how I feel to be
Writing things so you may
Believe
That words can describe
Things as big as the sea
With just a few words
You can have a piece of me
Now that's a delicacy
A rare taste unlike
Any other bee
I make homes in my
Trees
I spread my wings
And fly dangerously
Towards the raging sea
Where everyone hates me
But that doesn't change
My destiny
I don't write poetry
I write words that become
A part of me.